Reviewed by: A Whole World: Letters from James Merrill ed. by Langdon Hammer and Stephen Yenser William H. Pritchard (bio) A Whole World: Letters from James Merrill, edited by Langdon Hammer and Stephen Yenser (Knopf, 2021), 736 pp. "The last great American letter writer" hazards Stephen Yenser about James Merrill. Since Mr. Yenser is co-editor (along with Langdon Hammer, Merrill's biographer) of these almost 700 pages of the poet's epistolary efforts, his claim is less than disinterested. Still, it's a wholly plausible one to a reader dizzied and grateful for such profusion not to be found on email. Publication of these letters pretty much fills out Merrill's bibliography: collected poems, collected prose, novels and plays, a memoir, and, backing them up, Hammer's 900-page biography of a few years ago. [End Page 626] Merrill joins Robert Lowell and Elizabeth Bishop as recent American poets whose lives and work have been fully represented, and done so with editorial scrupulosity, imagination and wit. Unlike the writer who, anticipating his death, instructs that his letters be destroyed, Merrill preserved both outgoing and incoming correspondence; there is no temptation, reading these letters, to wish them away on grounds of discretion. You don't feel like an intruder into some one's privacy as you read along. His first lover, whom he met while an undergraduate at Amherst College, was the poet and translator Kimon Friar and some of the earliest letters here are to him. Merrill worries that his mother will find out about his same-sex love affair with Friar. An evening with Anais Nin, to whom Friar has introduced him, reassures him, and he writes Friar, now in Greece, that "Everything, now, is balanced, is not what I feared. I am at peace and I love you peacefully + longingly." This first of his love letters—there will be many more with many other lovers—is not such as to give one much pause: nothing in the writing beyond the nervous, guilty, and excited young man caught up in a romance. It occurs on page 21 of the letters, but on page 38, two years later, writing to his best friend and Lawrenceville classmate, Frederick ("Freddy") Buechner, he describes a social occasion in strikingly different and much more interesting language. He had been invited to a New York party, given for the Sitwells (Edith and Osbert) at which the famous photograph of the guests shows such literary luminaries, both arrived and yet to be, as W.H. Auden, John Berryman, Randall Jarrell, Marianne Moore, Elizabeth Bishop. Merrill didn't get into the picture, having been relegated with others, momentarily, to a lesser room; but he did get a chance to meet Sitwell, whom he described to Buechner in memorable terms—some of which I shall quote: The first impression, apart from the remarkable face, was one of shapelessness—much bottle-green satin beneath something black and not smooth. Out of this her hands proposed themselves: one holding a drink, this hand largely hidden by an enormous ring, elliptical, agate or tortoiseshell, at whose extremity little more than the fingernail was visible. He then moves to the other hand, preparatory to the "shocking face," Buechner is invited to imagine ("place your palm over your face vertically") by way of determining that it was "very big:" Bending over it to greet her, it could not be seen all at once, as though I were even closer than I was and on the verge of kissing her :… "The mouth was large, the lips thin, their curve arbitrary; the eyes, though finely socketed, small and (perhaps because of the nose's prominence) close together. As though magnetized by [End Page 627] what kept them apart. Colorless and hairless was the entire face, powdered, and in spite of the impression of great age, unwrinkled; a suggestion of thin, brownish hair at the turban's edge. The expression was one of considerable malignity; the manner was kind and restrained; I could imagine her doing many things, lecturing, sleeping, sitting on the john, playing the harp—everything, perhaps, except writing a poem. Perhaps, he thinks later, "she really is her own Collected Works, that...